Let’s get this straight. This isn’t a love for the Food Network where I watch a couple shows and call it a night. Oh no, it goes much deeper than that. I live the Food Network. I follow Alton Brown, Giada De Laurentiis and Bobby Flay on Twitter. I vote for the Next Food Network Star. I don’t cheer for certain contestants in Chopped but rather Geoffrey Zakarian giving a snarky comment on how well-done the beef was. And I might be the only guy in America that loves Guy Fieri unironically (seriously, the dude is hilarious). If you don’t watch the channel then you probably don’t understand my addiction, but if you do could you please schedule my intervention ahead of time so I know when to miss it?
Because here’s the thing: I don’t care if I can’t cook. I can tell you what a mirepoix is, but I have no idea how to make onions sweat. I know all about Cuban food even though I’ve never tried it. I sit down to watch “Iron Chef” while eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and feel nothing but envy and jealousy toward the judges. What I’m watching is food porn and I’m consistently giving myself food blue balls (I was going to make the joke that it sounded like blueberries but I believe I am above that).
The sad thing is I dream of one day being on the Food Network. I could see myself being on “Chopped” and seeing grenadine, borscht, starfruit and octopus in my basket (in which I would create an acidic ceviche with the octopus and grenadine, reduce the borscht into a sauce with honey and caramelize the starfruit to put on top…also I have no idea how to do any one of those things). I could see myself selling Korean taquitos for $8 in Salt Lake City in my food truck on “The Great Food Truck Race” when Tyler Florence gives a roadblock of selling everything for only a dollar (oh no!). And I could just see myself giving Giada a recipe for a cheesy corn bread only to hear her say “mozzarella” and “parmesan” in her Italian accent that is definitely overdone for the cameras. I don’t want to own a restaurant, I don’t want to create the next best dish and I don’t want to ever cook for my friends or family; I just want to be on these shows and kick ass.
I’m so deeply in love with Food Network that I don’t even care that they’re selling the same goddamn shows to me. Two years after Robert Irvine’s “Restaurant Impossible” about fixing failing restaurants, they introduced Bobby Flay’s “3 Days to Open” which is about fixing restaurants that haven’t opened yet. Mystery Diners and Restaurant Stakeout are about what goes on in a restaurant when the owner is away. Chef Wanted and Chef Hunter were made months from each other and both deal with chefs auditioning for the job of head chef at a fancy restaurant. I know all this, and I still don’t care; I’m entertained by Food Network.
So here’s my plea, Food Network: bring me on your channel, for the hell of it. I’ll eat butter with Paula Deen, I’ll count how many teeth Giada De Laurentiis has (I’m guessing 142…) and I’ll eat foie gras doughnuts with Justin Warner. And I’ll pretend to cook! I can toss the spices into the pot! No? Okay, I’ll show you the recipe to the perfect Tostinos Pizza Rolls (really, it’s more of an art). Ugh, fine. I’ll give you all of my gold. Please, Food Network, I’m begging you, I just want to eat amazing food and leave my mediocre food-scene of my kitchen for once.
Please help me.
